Me, Claude Garcia, I am 16 years old this year. My mother ran away from home when I was 9 years old and my father was paralyzed. I have always wanted to know what an ordinary family is like since I was a child. I have been sitting on a park bench last summer, spying on my classmate Raphael’s family. They satisfied all my fantasies about an ordinary middle-class family. I entered this family and retired. It's just that when I kissed Raphael's mother, when I said farewell to take her away, readers and friends, don't be confused by the words. All this is just a story I wrote for you, and I know a story you will read. What I am most satisfied with in this story is that in the stormy night, I watched Raphael’s parents have sex and witnessed the birth of a small life in absent-minded intercourse.
What is the story in reality? I, Claude Garcia, the hero of the story, need my French teacher Gilman. But there are obstacles in the process: 1. Mr. Gilman's status (relative to me) is high; 2. Mr. Gilman has a wife. So the question is: What will happen next?
Mr. Gilman is a good teacher with first-class literary taste and the first person to appreciate me. Unfortunately, he does not have the talent for literary creation. Simply put, he has no imagination. (This is actually what he most wants to see in students, ironic?) I told him a story about peeping in a "to be continued" composition, because I know nothing is more exciting than taking a moral hazard to spy on others’ lives People are curious; and curiosity is the virgin field of imagination. I love my teacher, so I entice it. Mr. Gilman soon wanted to know more. In order to keep the plot going, he even helped me steal the math test papers so that I could stay in the house. However, if the protagonist just looks at the scenery by the window, is it still called "Rear Window"? My teacher Gilman began to think that my voyeurism was like a relative who could only gossip. He wanted me to establish contact with the character-conflict. And when the conflict I wrote into the composition made him unsatisfied, he even created the conflict himself. I believe that when the principal asked him why he made things difficult for Raphael in the office, Mr. Gilman had every reason to be angry. But I believe that his subconscious really wants to make things difficult for Raphael, because he knows that doing so will help Raphael and me "build a strong connection." When the subconscious mind replaced reason, Mr. Gilman finally devoted himself to this literary creation. After that, readers will find him and I enter the room together, and we enter other people's rooms together to comment on the development of the plot. Our status gap is gradually shrinking-when I used the tone of comment to say "because he is not talented enough, so he is perverse", he did not think he accepted it. He no longer just treats me as a student, but a completely equivalent author who is qualified to comment on him.
Of course, my ultimate goal is to completely change our teacher-student relationship, and this is too easy. When I said that I needed to steal the exam papers to keep in the house, Mr. Gilman didn't hesitate to believe it. When I wrote the plot of Raphael's suicide in the article, Mr. Gilman immediately went to verify with anxiety. As soon as humans think about it, God makes a gimmick. The price for believing it is true is that he really lost his job. And when he is no longer a husband and I am no longer a student, we can continue our writing course perfectly. Finally, you also saw that we were sitting on the bench, watching the two women in the house, each writing their own scripts. We are equal. He helped me structure the plot step by step, and I helped him build his imagination for literature-even though his imagination was only a few steps longer than reality (don’t think I didn’t see his wife’s art gallery. Twin sisters)...
Back to my story, the story of the Raphael family. Its happy ending is very cliché, right? But have you forgotten? Isn’t my teacher Gilman’s first book a cliché love story? I love my teacher, so it works. Even my debut works are echoing and paying tribute to my teacher. Of course, its more important role is to help me solve the second obstacle: Jenna, the wife of Teacher Gilman.
No, I shouldn't use obstacles to describe an elegant and beautiful woman. But I know that she belongs to the middle class, her art is shit, she and Teacher Gilman cannot have children. When I was writing the article, I was sure that Mr. Gilman would not help sharing it with his pillow. I just need to let her project herself in while reading the article, let her notice Klee’s gouache, let her feel the same indifference from the man towards her, the same contempt for her career, and give her a reality forever An impossible affair. When I told her that the Raphael family was maintained because they had a second child, I almost heard her sad heartbroken. "Even with bare feet, rain can't dance", I hope the reader can think of something, she did it.
I, Claude Garcia, I am 16 years old. I removed my obstacles and got the best French teacher, Mr. Gilman. But-I despise those who put me and Mr. Gilman on sex. The imagination of the reader! If two trees are close together, the spiders will hang their webs; when two men sit together, do you have to be sexually obsessed? I admit—I am also wrong. Because of the book "The Confusion of Student Torres", I also used this plot to test my teacher, but the answer I got was "Do you think I would like to see two boys kiss each other?" My teacher didn't like it. --What a pity. If he likes it, my job will be much easier... In the
nature class, I learned about a creature called hermit crab, which likes to invade and inhabit the shells of other mollusks. In the process of parasitism, they will establish a symbiotic relationship with the sea anemone. When they get tired of staying in a shell and want to change to another suitable house, they will also take the anemone away. I love my teacher, so I live there. Don't look at me like this, didn't Teacher Gilman always want a son? I will take him into thousands of houses.
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